Rodgers: Truly a great and glorious St. Patrick's Day

Red hair and freckles — heck, it was mandatory I was a fan. But, really, I didn’t need much prodding. When you’re a student of the legendary (at least in our minds) St. Patrick’s Grade School, March 17th is monumentous. It was a day to celebrate our patron saint with Mass and singing “Great and Glorious St. Patrick,” at the top of our lungs so the stained glass windows rattled, then have the rest of the day off from school. How could we not love that day?

As I got older, and of drinking age, I celebrated my lineage in another appropriate way — by drinking green beer. When I was in college my roommate and I actually chartered a bus (Bieber Bus) to New York so that all of our friends, plus a few hangers’ on, could make the trek to New York City for the annual St. Patrick’s Day Parade.

Advertisement

March 17th is also the day my oldest brother was born – Terrence Patrick. Growing up, that meant that Terry’s birthday cake was green with shamrocks on it. Which I thought was pretty cool. And, in case he ever forgot what day his birthday was, there was a picture (I have the original) that ran on the front page of The Times Herald when he was a year old – he’s wearing a top hat and a big shamrock on the front of his diaper. What in God’s name were the editors – and my mom – thinking?

When he died in 1978, March 17th became much more than a reason to drink green beer and sing a song and look forward to green birthday cake.

Terry is never far from my mind…and sometimes I’ll see something that brings back distinct memories of my brother. The other morning, while driving into to work, I spotted a brown Corvette in a parking lot – just like the one Terry bought a few months before he died. He also owned a Barracuda, which he allowed me to drive freely. I was not, however, allowed to drive the Corvette. Terry did allow me to look at it — from afar.

Things like that Corvette, and observing my oldest son (who has somehow morphed into a combination of all 3 of my brothers), pull Terry front and center in my mind.

So, when Father Gus Puleo, our pastor at St. Pat’s, suggested to me that Matthew was ready to receive his First Holy Communion and that I should pick a date, I didn’t have to look long at the calendar.

St. Patrick’s Day fell on a Sunday this year. My mom always has Masses said for the birthdays of my dad, Nana, Pop and Terry. Perfect. Matthew Terrence Rodgers would receive his communion on March 17th.

With the help of his teachers at St. Katherine Day School Matthew was fully prepared and excited to receive communion for the first time.

I was excited as well, and I thought prepared for what would unfold that day.

And, as usual, I was wrong.

I remember Kaitlyn’s first communion like it was yesterday, even though it was many yesterdays ago. I remember fixing her hair to accommodate her veil, and watching her with immense pride as she received the sacrament for the first time.

I have to say. I don’t remember Tommy’s that well. I had just gotten the news that Matthew had Down syndrome, so I was kind of in a fog. Fortunately, I was with it enough to take pictures – proof that he did receive the sacrament.

Matthew’s day was going to be a bit different. Because St. Katherine Day School is not a parish school, and kids are from all over, sacraments are received at the kids’ parishes. So, Matthew was flying solo, and would be the star of the show — which, by the way, is an understatement.

Some background first – we were always members of St. Francis of Assisi parish, and I’m proud to say my older kids are graduates of SFA. When Tommy graduated from high school, and my ties (I had stepped down from the CYO board and our pastor Rev. Kevin Trautner had died) were pretty much severed. I started going to St. Pat’s more often because, well, simply, it felt like home.

Never did I feel more at home, and more amazed, than I did last Sunday when Matthew made his first communion.

Father Gus started off by mentioning what a great day it was – we had a new pope, it was the feast day of St. Patrick, and….Matthew was making his first communion.

I didn’t expect it, but I wasn’t surprised either given the goodness of this parish. There was applause.

And there was applause during Father Gus’ homily when he talked again about Matthew, and what a miracle he is.

And there was applause again when Matthew, with me and his father holding his hands, walked up to the altar and took communion. With Matthew’s little hand in mine, I looked out onto the people filling the pews – my mom, my brothers, my sister, my sister-in-law, my nieces and nephews, friends, Matthew’s teachers, people I had known all my life as parishioners of St. Pat’s, and just soaked it all in. The love pouring out for this kid was simply staggering.

I wish I could say that in Matthew’s humble and subtle way, he acknowledged the applause with a slight bow and a nod of thanks.

I wish I could say that, but I can’t. Instead – Matthew, who believes center stage and spotlights were invented solely for him – raised both his arms, commanding his loyal subjects to applaud louder. Which, of course, they did.

It was a moment I hope to never forget. And, it brought it full circle for me. I remembered that day, so long ago now, when I sat in the office of Father Trautner for counseling because I just found out my baby was going to be born with Down syndrome and I had trouble accepting the news. In his gentle voice, Father Trautner simply said, “Cheryl, this baby isn’t going to be a curse. This baby is going to be a blessing.”

After the applause died down and people started going to communion themselves, I was able to absorb all that had just happened. And I realized — all those tears I cried, all the sleep I lost because I was scared, or stressed or anxious, made me appreciate, that much more, the love and acceptance that enveloped my son in that beautiful church.